A Modern Prophecy
by DogStar13
Summary: When mortals realize that their world is more dangerous than they could ever imagine, what happens when demigods are suddenly thrown into the open, and instead of cowering from the power of the gods (as expected), humans begin meddling in godly affairs and hunting demigods in the name of science? Takes place after "The Last Olympian".
1. Prologue

**AN: Another fic. Let's see how faithful and successful I'll be this time, eh?**

 **I haven't read PJO nor HoO in a long time (who doesn't like the last chapter of Blood of Olympus as much as I do?), but I'll try to be as factual as a slightly AU fanfiction can be :P**

* * *

 **A Modern Prophecy**

Prologue

They were coming after him with tranquilizer guns, and he couldn't teleport away, and- oh for Zeus' sake, he was running across the Golden Gate Bridge now. He willed his mortal legs to move faster and faster up the slight slope, until his pudgy legs were straining with the exertion, muscles screaming silently, and all he wanted was to sit down and take a long break. But a glance behind him and the deafening roar of jet planes in the distance was enough to give him alibi to stop in his tracks. Lungs expanding, his brain got enough oxygen to concentrate. The god looked around him, gauging the population, and snapped his fingers.

The magic didn't start with any one mortal, really. As if on cue, everybody's functions shut down as they were taken over by the nonsensical fear and panic that came with witnessing the power of insanity. The bridge almost glowed with the chaos of yelling and smashing cars, large splashing sounds as hordes of pedestrians leapt over the railing of the walkway to end their suffering. And all the while, the wine god continued over the bridge at a more leisurely pace- still at a fast walk, but at least his heart wasn't going to spill out of his mouth.

The farther he distanced himself from the bridge, the faster the active effect would disappear. There was no telling if the mortals would recover entirely, but it was for the best- no thinking what the demigods would teach mortal scientists in their laboratories. He shuddered just thinking about it. What _had_ Hecate thought before disappearing from the face of the earth?

The Mist- a veil of magic keeping mortals happy and secure in their normal lives- had seemingly disappeared overnight. There was no need to mention that Dionysus had just beaten the thousandth level in Pac-Man when the news started rolling in from his Hermes earpiece. Dionysus reached in his ear canal and switched it off when it became clear it would distract him from the arcade game in front of him. The moment of victory wasn't enough to keep him elated when he discovered the source of the godly hyperventilation.

"What do you mean the Veil isn't there anymore?" Artemis yelled at Apollo. "This is no time for your inane jokes, little brother. You cannot imagine what would happen if mortals interfere in the hunt."

Apollo retorted, "Would you stop that about your Hunters? Nobody's being serious about this. I told Hermes this was a bad idea for us to talk about important things over the ear thingy-"

"It's an _earpiece_ , Apollo," came Hermes' slightly hurt voice. "They were invented by a writer- his name was Ray Bradbury, I think. Anyway, I'm trying to make this a 4-D experience. It's only a prototype, to tell you the truth-"

"SILENCE!" Zeus thundered. Everyone fell silent. "This is an urgent situation. Apollo is telling the truth. I don't know why the Mist has failed. Athena is working on it as I speak, but this situation has not occurred for two thousand years. It's very... peculiar. Everybody gather in the throne room."

There was no need for the word "immediately" for all of them to comply. Which brought him back to his situation. Why did he teleport to such a populated area when he was bleeding golden trails of ichor? Dionysus rolled his eyes at his own stupidity, and ducked behind a building. Checking that nobody was looking his way, he quietly disappeared.


	2. Chapter One

**AN: Yes, and I'm back again with another chapter! If it looks like I wrote this half-asleep, that's because I am, haha. I might add some more text at the end and revise the chapter after I get my much-needed sleep.**

 **Thanks to the two people for reviewing!**

 **You may now start reading. Peace~**

* * *

 **A Modern Prophecy**

Chapter One

Nico di Angelo did not normally lug around pizza delivery boys who were in shock. Not to be apathetic or anything, but it was proving to be a grueling job. The mortal seemed to be actually frozen- probably courtesy of the time he spent hiding in the strawberry fields, especially when it was raining at night, _and_ they were in New England. Nico could feel tiny amounts of the boy's life force slowly slipping away, and knew that the boy would probably get hypothermia, even if Nico got him to the hospital wing in time.

His dark eyes calculated the two steps that led onto the front porch, and then he looked down at the hundred-and-thirty pound weight clutching a sodden pizza box. Sighing, Nico turned so that he was facing away from the Big House and planted one foot on the ground and the other on the first step. Gathering his remaining strength, he pulled the pizza boy up onto the porch and under the shelter of the awning. He gently set the mortal down out of the way and tried the doorknob, but it wouldn't budge. Nico propped the mortal against the wall and decided to shadow travel his way in.

But where was the nearest portal? Nico imagined a map of Camp Half-Blood in his mind. The one he saw was a replica of the one given to him on the first day he arrived, when he was so excited to finally watch a PG-13 movie (he was so childish back then). The arts and crafts pavilion was the closest building with plenty of shadows, and it was a little farther than the volleyball courts, which were located a short while from the Big House. Nico squinted through the dark and scanned the surroundings until he saw a white net in the distance. He set off into the rain again at a jog.

Stumbling out of the shadows in front of the door to Chiron's quarters, Nico closed his eyes and leaned against the wall for a moment until the dizziness went away. Then he wearily raised his knuckles to the wood.

"Chiron!" Nico said, knocking loudly on the door. "It's Nico. I need you to come out- it's urgent!"

Apparently, Chiron was a light sleeper. He opened the door a few seconds before Nico was going to knock again, face as alert as someone who was awakened at three could be, and clad in his pajamas. Or rather, only his pajama top.

"Nico," he said in evident surprise, noting the dripping son of Hades. "What's the matter?"

Nico pulled at the neck of his leather jacket, trying not to wince in distaste. "I haven't gone to check yet, but there might be something wrong with the border magic. I found a pizza delivery boy hiding in the strawberry fields. He had been there for a long time when I found him, and he's in shock right now."

Chiron was stunned. "That... that isn't possible."

"Mortals think the anatomy of a centaur isn't possible."

"Absolutely true," Chiron agreed absently and tried to get his muddled mind in order. Nico clearly wasn't someone to make jokes (and this would certainly not be a funny one). But if a mortal had really gotten inside the borders… Had someone tampered with Thalia's tree again? He sighed, and without further questioning, declared, "Lead the way."

He followed Nico to the front door. The boy pulled it open and turned to the right. Chiron looked where Nico was looking, and his eyes widened.

"Let's get him to the second floor," he commanded without hesitating. "How did you bring him all the way here, though?" He looked at the item in the clutches of the mortal. "And he was holding a pizza box the entire time?" Chiron regarded the unconscious pizza boy quizzically. "I won't ask. Leave the box there for now and help me bring him upstairs."

Nico tried tugging the box away from him, to no avail. The boy moaned and tightened his grip until his knuckles were white. Shrugging, Nico stood up and asked, "It won't be a major problem, will it?"

Chiron shook his head. "The stairs were renovated a week ago- they should be spacious enough. He looks taller than six feet, though. Watch his head and don't let it hit the ceiling."

They made it all the way to the stairs with no problem, but Nico had to hold the boy in a rather awkward manner during the climb to the second floor landing. The hospital wing was quiet with the sound of slow breathing on both sides of the room, and Nico held up a flashlight to guide Chiron as he bent his legs and deposited the mortal on an empty bed.

"Find the medic," Chiron ordered him, busying with the sheets. "Will Solace is on nighttime shift. He didn't greet us when we come in, so he might have fallen asleep."

Nico shined the flashlight around the room several times until he found the only person a chair, a blond boy slumped over, a roll of gauze held loosely in his dangling hand. He walked over and shook Will awake.

The latter gazed at him through bleary eyes for a minute. Then he blinked and sat up, and as he did, the gauze dropped from his loose grasp and rolled under a bed. Will groaned, now fully awake, and scrambled out of his chair.

"Nico-" Nico started. How did Will know his name? "I'm sorry if you need anything, but will you please shine the light under the bed first? I'm going to forget to get it later, when I have to change a few people's bandages. Thanks." Nico did as he asked. "Xander from the Tyche cabin cursed the Apollo kids for two whole weeks, and I'm definitely suffering big-time."

The farther Will reached, the more Nico looked away from him, until the son of Hades was looking in an entirely different direction and prayed that the beam was steady and facing in the right spot.

"Nico, direct the beam a little farther in," Will said, and Nico had to look to do it. He inched a little farther from the blonde, but obliged all the same. Will's fingers finally closed around the roll of gauze, and he called, "Got it!"

Withdrawing from under the bed, Will dusted himself off, smiling. "Alright, what do you need?"

Nico stammered, "Chiron needs you." He cleared his throat, and continued smoothly, "I found someone in the strawberry fields, and it looks like he's been in the rain for a long time-" Before he finished, Will nodded vigorously, and hurried toward Chiron.

The boy was mumbling incoherently, eyes fluttering. Will placed his hand on the pizza boy's forehead and concentrated for a while. He reached his verdict only half a minute later. "He's got a fever, but it could drop really low in a few hours to the point that he gets hypothermia. His body temperature's a hundred and one point five degrees Fahrenheit. I can make the fever go down in an hour, but the problem is that his body's battling both cold and hot at the same time." He looked up at Chiron. "Chiron, it's nothing to worry about. Half a day's sleep should be enough. And ambrosia, can't forget that-"

"He can't take it," Chiron interrupted.

Surprised, Will asked, "Why not?"

"He's a mortal."

Will stared for a minute. Then he glanced out the window into the rain. "Has someone gone to check Thalia's tree yet?" His voice was a forced calm.

"I'll go," Nico volunteered. "I'm leaving after, so-"

Unexpectedly, Will snapped, "No. You're not going back out in that weather."

"Then who's going to check? Thalia?" Nico retorted sarcastically. She was the daughter of Zeus; she'd probably be able to withstand it. "Chiron, isn't the weather in Camp Half-Blood a simulation- can't you change the weather within the boundaries?"

Chiron looked sheepish. "That would be the camp director's job, but I'm afraid Mr. D is on Olympus right now. He was called to an urgent meeting, and the job isn't passed over to me because Lord Zeus said weather doesn't really affect our activities. I'm not in a position to complain, either. But don't worry about that right now. I won't let either of you go check; a centaur has a better immune system." He rose up to his full height. "Take a rest. I'll come back with news."

* * *

 **AN: Chiron is talking to me too, haha.**

 **My knowledge of medicine and the immune system is hazy, so if I'm wrong, a Four-Point Spell would be nice :D**


	3. Chapter Two

**AN: Please excuse incorrect references- I'm going to borrow a copy of _The Son of Neptune_ in** **around a week** **for improved** **accuracy!**

* * *

 **A Modern Prophecy**

Chapter Two

Dr. Chase hummed as he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, speeding through State Route 24. He was hoping to avoid the five o'clock commute traffic, but it looked like it wouldn't happen today. Once he rounded the bend and Caldecott Tunnel came into sight, his thought process completed itself as he stepped on the brakes, avoiding collision with the car in front. Dr. Chase peered through the windshield with an expression of mild curiosity, wondering what accident had occurred. But besides the sight of a plethora of vehicles wasting gasoline and battery by leaving their car keys in the engine, there was nothing interesting, unless something unusual had happened inside the tunnel itself. After someone started honking obnoxiously, causing the domino effect of a shrill orchestra of oblivious annoyance, the cars in the tunnel finally acquiesced and began inching forward. As Dr. Chase drove into the tunnel at five miles per hour, since he was in the left lane, he chanced a glance at the wall- and nearly swerved.

There was another tunnel in the tunnel, cut through the stone. The road was perpendicular with SR 24, and in the middle of it, blocking the view of a valley beyond, were two Roman soldiers.

Or rather, they were teenagers. One was an Asian boy that resembled a cuddly panda, and had a bow in hand. The other was a dark-skinned girl with curly brown hair. A sword scabbard lay against her leg and reached all the way down to the ankle. A _spatha_ could possibly be in there. It was a cavalry sword that Dr. Chase vaguely remembered learning in high school were usually used by Ancient Roman infantry on horseback. It fit the length, and looked awkward strapped to the soldier's leg because it wasn't meant for close combat on foot. But of course, the government wouldn't allow teenagers to carry around actual weapons. His quick mind brought an idea forward- maybe they were half-bloods, like his daughter. Were there _Roman_ demigods, though? If Camp Half-Blood was in New York, it would make sense that a Roman camp would be on the other side of the United States.

But weren't the Romans enemies with the Greeks?

He had to tell Annabeth.

* * *

Hazel was getting more nervous by the second. Were the afternoon commuters _really_ seeing Frank and her? She knew perfectly well that the Mist kept mortals from seeing the entrance to Camp Jupiter, but all of a sudden, people had started to gawk at them- teens in armor- in varying shades of avid interest. She shared a sidelong glance with Frank, who looked even more bewildered than her. He was a fresher newbie than her.

"Are you _really_ sure they can't see us?" he asked for the third time. "There's this nagging in my mind that they don't just see a maintenance door."

Hazel shrugged. "Maybe they just see particularly foul graffiti. But I agree- this situation really is weird. We should tell Dakota after our shift is done."

"If he's not already on his daily Kool-Aid rampage," Frank agreed. Then he decided to do something socially awkward, and that was to wave at the cars. After all, he thought, nothing's going to happen, right? Hazel's the only one who's going to think I'm weird.

The guards' eyes bugged out when a five-year-old tentatively lifted her arm and waved back. Frank's voice shook as he said, "That's just a random five-year-old who can see through the Mist, right?"

Hazel took the initiative and waved again. This time the same girl, who by this time was almost out of sight, and a scattering of other mortals of various age waved back, looking somewhat bewildered but relieved, and maybe excited. About what, Hazel didn't know. She asked Frank the time.

"It's four fifteen. Our shift's over in a quarter of an hour. Do you think the guards in the last shift also saw this, and didn't report it?"

"It could happen. Or the consuls don't think it's too big of a threat." Or they just wanted to ignore it, Hazel added silently. Praetor Reyna and Jason didn't seem corrupted, but she didn't know about the rest of Camp Jupiter. There was little chance Frank and Hazel would be believed- he was still on _probatio_ and she was a daughter of Pluto. Many demigods and fauns were already skittish around her, and they would most likely ostracize her even more if they realized that she could summon jewels and metals. Not to mention that all of them were _cursed._

Frank looked behind him at the sloping hills and Camp Jupiter. He swore he could hear a faint chopping noise, like helicopter blades. As he listened, it became steadily louder and louder. Frank realized that it wasn't just one helicopter, but at least five. Hazel heard it too, and both heads turned.

"I'm going to go see what's happening," he said loudly. _Stay here and guard_. Hazel nodded, and turned back to the front as Frank padded the few yards to the abrupt ending of the tunnel. The Berkeley hills surrounding the valley came into sight, and with them came a squadron of helicopters inching forward in the air. Frank distinctly heard screams coming from New Rome, and saw people running to man the ballistae. Someone shouted his name, and Frank looked down at an unfamiliar demigod a few years older than him, standing on the other side of the Little Tiber. He was cupping his mouth to funnel the message across.

Frank bellowed, "WHAT?"

"Stay at your posts, Romans!" the messenger yelled again. "The praetors say they're handling the air attack just fine!"

Frank doubted that wood and metal spikes could harm the helicopters, but was in no position to argue. He nodded, backed up a few steps, and ran back to meet Hazel, who sighed and drew her _spatha_ when she heard the news. "We get the boring job, I guess."

They stood there watching the mortals drive by until it became a normal occurrence, like the two of them were just props from a play, separating the mortal world from the (un)secret world behind them.

* * *

A few hours before the attack, a blond teenager had torn into the Senate meeting a quarter hour after it started. Gasping, he announced between breaths, "The gods have shown me the Greeks' camp!"

Reyna's cool gaze bore into him. "Augur," she said sternly. "This is the last time I let this go. The next time is an infraction on your record. A permanent one."

Octavian pulled his toga gone awry back on his shoulder, and insisted, "I'm not lying-"

"The last time we listened to your ideas, all we got into was a _venti_ ambush in Florida. The time before _that-"_ Reyna cut off her thought. "I admire your attempt to find the location of the Greeks, but none of your predictions concerning this subject have been right. I have enough reason to doubt you."

"No! This time I made a breakthrough- the Greek camp is on Long Island Sound!"

Reyna eyed him silently. Jason said for her, "We'll have a private discussion about this after the meeting."

Octavian sulked all the way to his seat and threw himself down. Hardly listening to the discussion, he fumed all the way through the rest of it. And now, he thought bitterly, looking up at the mortals' news helicopters taking pictures or whatever they did, Camp Jupiter is becoming tainted. Did being an augur directly descended from Apollo mean nothing to the westernized version of the Twelfth Legion Fulminata? What was propriety to New Rome if two people who had only been in camp for less than five years were unanimously promoted to praetorship?

Reyna was becoming soft, he thought angrily. He could see through her cool façade, even if nobody else did. Civilians should look up to someone who had a greater motive for eliminating the Greek camp, who will stop at nothing to become greater in power.

That person, he declared silently, was going to be himself. And he marched to a ballista and began firing.

* * *

The candy shop on Fifth Avenue in the Upper East side of Manhattan was churning out its business as usual. The brown-haired, blue-eyed woman behind the counter of Sweet on America was often compared to milk-chocolate Hershey bars by children and hardened teen gang members alike (but that is another story), because her aura of kindness was so strong that on first sight, even babies would rather latch onto her than their parents. Well, that was probably an overstatement, but it was true that Sally Jackson had kept her job all those years because of this.

Today, though, the streets were less crowded than usual. At one point, Sally had nothing else to do, and traded shifts with another woman. She hung up her apron and crossed the road to see the news on the television in a store window.

The video onscreen showed sloping hills, and a subtitle in the corner read "Berkeley Hills, California". Small dots-cars, Sally's brain supplied- snaked through the hills, but the camera zoomed in on a particular valley right next to a tunnel.

"Teenagers live in a city pulled straight from Ancient Rome, complete with realistic ballistae," read the text on the bottom of the screen. "We think this has to do with yesterday's incident, where a man performed a horrifying bout of madness in order to get away from the press."

The view switched to one of the iconic Golden Gate Bridge, as seen from a pier. A man with pudgy legs was running for dear life toward the center of the Golden Gate Bridge, pursued by the press on foot and two helicopters from above. The camera focused on the man, who stopped and looked deep in concentration. The sound of helicopters and background tourist voices were quickly drowned out by ones of pure confusion and fear, and the man began to run again, shrinking until he disappeared into the crowd on the other side.

"John Brown, an expert on Ancient Greece and was a tourist in San Francisco at the time, witnessed the man bleeding a strange golden liquid. He immediately deduced the liquid as ichor, the blood of the Greek gods. The man who caused the massacre on the Golden Gate Bridge is being dubbed, for now, as Dionysus, the god of wine and madness."

The screen showed Berkeley Hills again. "As the news squad fly over the hill nearest the valley, strange projectiles are being flung into the air. It makes the situation look even more life-like, although the cameramen are being assured that the spikes are indeed not real."

One of the spear-like projections grew larger in the left corner of the camera's view before it disappeared. Sally felt a split-second's anticipation, and a spray of glass flew across the screen. The whole picture shook as the camera crew screamed for dear life, and it blurred until Sally had to look away, head pounding from dizziness and heart beating fast.

* * *

 **Notes** :

 **Rather proud, isn't he?**

 **Frederick Chase is said to be a professor at West Point. But that's a military school in New York, and he lives in San Francisco, so I'm making him a Berkeley professor because it suits my needs.**

 **AN: I finally looked up NaNoWriMo after seeing so many authors talking about it in their ANs- and I joined! So in November, there will be a drastic decline in updating (like down to zero).**


	4. Chapter Three

**A Modern Prophecy**

Chapter Three

Nico pried the pizza box from the mortal's unconscious grasp. His fingers skimmed the edge of the box, looking for something. Will watched him curiously, not knowing what he was trying to do. The fingers found the catch, unhooked it, and the the pizza box opened, revealing nothing but dark patches of grease and crumbs.

Will couldn't stop himself from snickering. "Were you hungry?"

Nico smiled too, but his was without joy, almost like he was cracking up at an acerbic joke. He shut the box, the whoosh of air making the strands of hair in front of his eyes flutter, and set it on the bedside table. "No, I was going to heat it up and eat the dinner someone else paid for," he said sarcastically, then added under his breath, "I didn't pay for those Happy Meals either."

"What?"

"There could have been a message or something like that in there," Nico said, ignoring Will. "It can explain why the pizza guy was so set on it being with him. But maybe it really was just a pizza, and he got too hungry and ate it. That still wouldn't explain his behavior..."

The sound of hooves on wood made their heads turn. Chiron appeared over the stairs, a frown on his face and looking deeply disturbed.

Will sprang to his feet. "Something happened, right? The borders-"

"Intact." Chiron sighed heavily; his tail twitched nervously and flicked droplets of rainwater onto the sheets of a sleeping demigod. "But we do have a traitor in the camp. Someone who intentionally let the mortal in."

"Nobody comes to this end of the peninsula," Will argued. "Didn't the introduction video you showed us say that there were mortal-warding magic all along Long Island Sound? People who wander this way suddenly think of some other place they have to go to."

"There are chinks in the armor," Chiron said. "Some people do show up from Montauk, and we guide them back and give them free strawberries as compensation."

Nico looked at Chiron. _B_ _r_ _ibing mortals with food, now, are you?_ "Well, do you think the pizza guy came to Montauk to deliver pizza?"

"The customers must like room service," Will said jokingly. He drew in a sharp intake of breath. "Chiron, do you think he could be an unclaimed demigod? One of the gods with more children, like Apollo or Hermes, might have accidentally overlooked him. That would mean he came in by his own."

"I didn't think of that," Chiron murmured. "Then it is fortunate that we didn't let a demigod die by negligence. Thank you for your input- I'll be sure to find a satyr to confirm during breakfast."

* * *

"Hey, you awake?"

Go away.

"C'mon, answer me."

No. Let me sleep.

"Seriously," the voice said. "I know you're awake. We need you to answer some questions."

What? This sounded like something a police detective would say. His body stiffened as his conscience told him that this wasn't his bed. Asher could smell detergent and antiseptic; was he in a hospital? No, he argued, his body felt just fine. Alright, so maybe he was a bit sore, but maybe it was from sleeping in a cramped position. He opened his eyes and met the white ceiling. His ceiling was blue.

"Want some water?"

Asher turned his head and saw a blond boy sitting there. A paper cup was in his hands, and he offered it to Asher. Suddenly aware that his lips were parched, Asher wordlessly downed it and handed it back. As the boy set it down on a table, Asher sat up and looked around. It looked like a sort of hospital, but not the typical kind. First of all, the doctors moving about were all blond and blue-eyed. They were no more than eighteen, probably. And secondly, there was something in the air that seemed... mysterious.

"Where am I?" Asher asked the boy. "Where did you find me?"

"You're in the hospital of a summer camp located on Long Island Sound." The guy spoke hesitantly, as if he were choosing his words carefully. "We found you in the strawberry fields in the middle of the night, half freezing to death. Do you have any recollection of what you were doing before then?"

"Well..." Asher said slowly. He wracked his brain. He was at work yesterday, he knew that. He had to take a taxi to Long Island Sound because some lazy (probably potbellied) guy ordered a shrimp pizza. Asher remembered the taste of shrimp in his taste buds, which was weird because he didn't usually eat customers' pizza. But he was hungry, and he was cold all over...

"I had a dream," Asher said abruptly. "There were half-goat boys and they blew on flute-things. Strawberries grew to ripeness in thirty seconds. And..." There was something in the blond boy's expression- surprise? Apprehension? Asher abruptly laughed. "I must have had a fever or something. It doesn't make sense..."

The boy shook his head rapidly at his words. He leaned forward, eyes searching Asher's face. "Tell me more about it."

"Well... That's about it, really," Asher said. uncomfortable with the proximity of the guy's intense gaze. "I also dreamed I was too hungry so I ate my customer's pizza, but it's all blurry. When can I go home?"

"I'm sorry," the boy said, exhaling and standing up. "We'll have to keep you here for a while... I hope the strawberries make up for it."

* * *

"So... I'm a clear-sighted mortal?"

Chiron nodded. "Are you sure you don't remember how you got in the borders?"

Asher shook his head for the tenth time. "I feel like I was in shock or something. That's why my memories are so messed up and blurry."

"Well, I suppose you would want to go home, correct?"

"Of course!" Asher said indignantly. "I'm not some hobo. But this whole Greek-god thing is so cool. You mean someone could swing one of those glowing swords and they would go right through me?"

The blond boy named Will said dryly, "Just don't feature these in magic shows. But yeah, Celestial bronze doesn't hurt mortals."

"So you're not mortal?"

"We're demigods," the shadowy kid said. "Half mortal and half god. Which means that we have double the mortality rate. There aren't a lot of demigods that live to old age."

Suddenly the idea of being a demigod didn't seem so exciting anymore.

"Do not tell this to anybody," Chiron said, his easygoing attitude suddenly disappearing. Asher could sense the urgency in his voice: "Who knows what mortals can do if they join forces with our enemy? Many lives of demigods and other nature spirits dwelling here will be jeopardized. But at the same time, nobody will really believe you." Chiron looked like he was trying to convince himself. "Only a handful of mortals like you can see through the Mist. If you were to bring a Celestial weapon back to Manhattan, it would look like something ten times less harmful."

"Like a baseball bat," Will said.

Chiron nodded, and said to Asher, "After lunch, Argus will drive you back home. He'll manipulate the Mist so that it's like you never left. And hopefully we will never see each other again."

Asher didn't like how he said the last sentence. "Why not? It would be cool if I had demigod friends-"

"You'll be putting all of us in danger if they knew you had ties with us, and you would be in danger, too," Nico cut in. "And mortals aren't supposed to know about Camp Half-Blood, so it's for the best."

Will added, "Don't take this too personally."

Meanwhile, Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter appeared on Google Maps.


	5. Not A Chapter

**FROM:** DOGSTAR13

 **TO:** READERS

* * *

Ahem. Me here.

Okay, maybe you think that I'm going to say the dreaded words (i.e. "This Story Is On Hiatus"). But I'm not going to. After all, this PM- Public Message- is only getting posted on stories that I'm going to _keep_ like my own _child (_ so you're quite lucky if you stumbled upon this). I've looked over all my past works, from many accounts (which to this day, I still have no idea _why_ I made more than one. I was like nine years old- what a nine-year-old me was _doing_ signing upon a 13 website in the first place, I have no idea), and as they are quite embarrassing to reminisce over, I shall make another account.

Yes, I am contradicting myself.

But I'm also making a clean slate.

Never fear, my new account name will be...uh... well, just look for the title of the story. It'll probably appear as (formerly named **Title Here** ) in the summary.

You heard right. I'll be posting new versions of the stories I intend to keep, and I _solemnly swear I will keep this promise_ \- Unbreakable Vow if needed- and you guys will just have to trust that I will make my fingers type. Ever so slowly if need be.

And of course I will make chapters longer! You know who I'm talking to.

A review or PM that you made the journey to a new account with me will make my day! :-D

Peace in.

DogStar13 No Longer, and Preparing For a Glitchy Move

P.S. Please don't message DogStar13 after January 2016. It's like talking to a brick wall. Also reviewing on these stories. Also a brick wall. I'll be keeping this account just as a testament of all the stories I Favorited...


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